


Home Sweet Home

by genevra1676



Series: Carnaval 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e13 Destiny's Child, Season/Series 15, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23424106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevra1676/pseuds/genevra1676
Summary: Sam and Dean, fresh from their escape from the dying HunterCorp AU and their meeting with this world's Winchester brothers, enjoy their new home in Rio de Janeiro . . . and each other.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, HunterCorp Dean Winchester/HunterCorp Sam Winchester
Series: Carnaval 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685008
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissJacki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJacki/gifts).



> This is the start of a series of short stories about the HunterCorp Winchesters in Brazil. Though my heart and soul still belong to the regular Dean/Sam, I couldn't help but be intrigued by their charming doppelgangers. This first story introduces us to their new lives in Rio, and others to follow will explore their ongoing antics.
> 
> Standard disclaimer: The words in this story are mine, but the setting and characters belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, et al.

“ _Obrigado_ , Antônia.” Dean smiled as our maid set a tray with glasses of _caipirinha_ and a plate of açaí berries and sliced guava fruit on the table between our lounge chairs, and his gaze lingered appreciatively on her backside as she left.

I scowled at him. “Really, bro?”

“Relax, Samuel—you know I’ve got better manners than to bother the help. A little looking, however, never hurt anyone. Besides, you’re the only girl for me!” He grinned and squeezed my hand before picking up his drink.

“You’re incorrigible!” I shook my head with a small smile of my own, then leaned back and relaxed while Savage Garden drifted out from the hidden speakers on the ironwood deck.

“But that’s why you love me! Seriously though, kiddo . . . do you think you’ll be happy here?” He gestured behind us to the three hundred-square meter condo nestled in the hills overlooking Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas that we’d moved into a couple weeks earlier. “This place is a good bit smaller than we’re used to, and it’s not on the beach like we’d hoped, and—”

“But it’s _ours_ , Dean, and that’s what really matters,” I assured him.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course it’s not perfect, and it’ll take some time to furnish and decorate it to our tastes. But the finishes are impeccable, the view across the lagoon is lovely, and the beaches are only minutes away,” I pointed out. “More importantly, Dad didn’t choose to live in Rio, he didn’t pick this villa out, and he didn’t pay for anything here. _We_ did all that—for the first time ever, we’re deciding how we want to live our own lives! Besides, everyone has to start somewhere, right?”

“Lord knows the Winchesters from this world weren’t much help!” my brother sniffed indignantly. “I mean, I’m grateful for the plane tickets—even if they did initially try to book us in _coach_ —and the fake documents for our new identities. But how the heck did they expect us to get started with the measly couple hundred bucks they handed us?”

“Fortunately for us, those artifacts we found in the Bunker during their little road trip provided us with the seed money to turn into quite a respectable nest egg at the casinos here. I just hope no one notices they’re missing anytime soon, considering how _unpleasant_ that Dean got about touching his precious car!” I shuddered a bit in distaste.

He patted my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, they’re much too busy fighting this Chuck character to have time to take an inventory, plus the storerooms we . . . ah, _liberated_ those items from looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades. Besides, we made sure nothing we sold was magical or cursed.”

“Well, we _did_ take some of the gadgets the Men of Letters had stockpiled, since those two obviously weren’t using them. They’re rather antiquated, but still better than simply relying on rock salt shotgun shells and hip flasks of holy water. Honestly, it’s amazing the hunters here have survived for so long with such primitive equipment!” I shook my head again, this time in disbelief.

“The other Sam and Dean can’t complain about that stuff since we’ll be using it, not selling it, and we hardly took _all_ of it. Still, I _am_ glad we were able to grab some of our own gear, not to mention _our_ clothes, out of my poor Baby before having to abandon her in that in-between dimension,” Dean said.

I laughed. “Hey, weren’t you the one who wanted to keep some of their hideous flannel?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “It was a moment of wistful nostalgia for their freedom and simplicity. But what we’ve got now is even better! We can not only build our own lives and establish our own hunting business out from under Dad’s thumb, but we can do it like _civilized_ people instead of . . . what did you call them, hillbillies? That’s . . . that’s pretty darn awesome!”

I grinned at his enthusiasm. It occurred to me that my brother had been more relaxed and content in the past few weeks that I could ever recall. Not that either of us had been _unhappy_ per se in our former existence. But the stresses of the needs of HunterCorp, the demands of its board and investors, and most of all the expectations of our father had taken more of a toll than we’d realized, particularly on Dean as the elder son. It made me thankful all over again for his efforts to shield me as much as he could from those pressures when we were growing up. And I knew _just_ how to show that gratitude.

I put down my cocktail, rose to my feet, and held out my hand. “Come inside with me, my dear.”

He looked up in surprise at the husky tone of my voice, and his verdant eyes darkened at my expression. He took my hand, rose gracefully, and followed me into the house.

As Dean had commented earlier, our new home was rather modest in size compared to Dad’s massive New York penthouse or several luxurious vacation homes around the globe. As we walked through the cathedral-ceilinged great room, past the chef’s kitchen and attached pantry, up the stairs and past the two guest bedrooms, the smell of fresh paint still lingered in places, most of the rooms were only partially furnished, and selecting the artwork and other décor had barely begun. But not even our father could find fault in finishes like the _jatoba_ hardwood floors and woodwork throughout most of the main and upper levels, Arabescato Venato marble countertops and tile in the kitchen and bathrooms, travertine tile flooring in the lower level, and stainless steel Miele appliances and features like the sauna, steam room, and wine cellar on the lower level and infinity pool with waterfall and covered outdoor kitchen with a clay oven and _churrasqueira_ out on the stone-lined terrace.

Once inside the master suite, we cut through the sitting room, already outfitted with a leather couch, end tables, low entertainment unit, and an enormous TV mounted on the wall. The centerpiece of the bedroom itself was the custom Texas king platform bed with padded headboard which we’d imported from the States, made up in bed linens of cobalt blue and emerald green. It was flanked by a pair of Boca do Lobo nightstands, and a matching console table, sideboard, and mirror and a plush navy rug completed the room’s look for now.

I stopped us at the side of the bed and unbuttoned his linen shirt, baring his fair, freckled skin to the afternoon light as I pushed it off his shoulders. He in turn reached up, let my hair down, and ran his fingers sensuously through it; he was the only one—besides my stylist, of course—allowed to touch me like this. I closed my eyes in appreciation for a moment before bending my head to kiss him thoroughly.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why the sudden interest in afternoon delight?” he asked when we came up for air, looking up through those impossibly long lashes.

“I can’t just want to make love to you?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And let yourself get mussed and sweaty before dinner? You forget how well I know you, bro.”

I chuckled at that. “Well, maybe it’s time I lived it up a little! After all, we don’t have to worry about Dad’s disapproval if either of us show up to the table looking a little unkempt.”

“You little rebel! I think I approve of the new you, Sammy!” he replied with a laugh and kissed me again.

“There’s more to this than a simple whim or a desire to stick it to the old man though,” I admitted. “I’m not sure if you realize how grateful I’ve always been for how you stood between me and him when we were younger, how you tried to keep him from criticizing me for being _different_ than what he wanted, how you shouldered more than your share of the work to give me space to breathe, and so on. Seeing you so carefree now . . . it makes me happy, but it also reminds me that I need to demonstrate my appreciation more.”

His expression softened. “Dad meant well, you know? He only wanted the best for us, but he just didn’t know how to show it—not with that whole ‘stiff-upper-lip, hoo-rah’ nonsense he grew up with. But you don’t need to feel like you owe me for trying to make life a little easier for you—that’s just what older brothers are supposed to do.”

“Well, I’m thankful regardless, so . . . so _hush up_ and let me show it!” I told him before pushing him over onto the bed.

“So _forceful_! You’re making me all tingly!” He grinned up at me.

I rolled my eyes and removed my embroidered cotton tunic, which shut his mouth pretty quickly. We hurriedly took off our pants, and I climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside my lover. We both took a moment to admire the other—we might not be young anymore, but the hours spent with our personal trainer between hunts showed in our flat stomachs, trim waists, and lean muscles. His tawny hair still showed no grey, and the only noticeable sign of age was the deepening of the laugh lines at the corners of his large eyes.

I leaned forward to capture his lips, then wandered across his sharp jawline to nibble on his ear for a bit. My lips traveled down his throat to its base, where I sucked a bright red love mark. I kissed my way down his broad chest, pausing to suckle at each of his perky nipples until he was keening in pleasure. I continued along his abdomen and licked down his treasure trail, then wrapped my fingers around his shaft and drew the head of his cock into my mouth.

Dean groaned and buried his fingers in my hair as I happily lapped at his glans before swallowing him down as far as I could. I sucked and swirled my tongue around his member until the hitching of his breath warned me that he was getting too close. As I pulled my mouth away, he scrabbled at the nightstand drawer and then slapped the bottle of lube into my hand. I coated my cock and rubbed more around the pink furl of his entrance, slipping a couple fingers in just enough to get some of the fluid past the tight ring of muscle. I removed my fingers, lifted and spread his legs, and pushed in.

We both sighed blissfully as I bottomed out in his tight heat, and he arched his back and raised his hips so that my thrusts would graze his prostate. I started out slow, withdrawing until only my head was still inside and then gradually sliding back into his slick channel, but I quickened my pace when he tightened his legs around my torso with a low growl. Soon he was gasping out swear words, the sort of language he never used except during our lovemaking, while I plunged vigorously in and out of his taut passage.

We continued like this for a few minutes, with him rocking and squeezing around me as I drove forcefully into him. He then shifted his legs until his calves were resting on my shoulders, allowing me to bend him nearly in half and pound into him with abandon. His cries of passion grew frenzied, and his channel suddenly clenched around me as he shook through his climax. That tipped me over the edge, and I shouted as I came.

We collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily and drenched with sweat. I was still buried inside him, his passage quivering around my cock. As I carefully pulled out and wiped us both off before settling my head on my big brother’s shoulder, I finally noticed that it was raining outside, the drops hammering on the tile roof above us, as another autumn storm passed through.

“Do you think the other Sam and Dean have this? That they’re together like this too?” I asked drowsily.

Dean stroked my hair for a moment before wrapping his arms around me. “I certainly hope so. It would be pretty darn sad if they didn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since 15.13 Destiny's Child aired, my friend Jackie and I have been discussing the possibilities of the AU!chesters, whom I think most of us agree were the best part of the episode. We've been bouncing ideas off each other and then lamenting that neither of us could write them, particularly with the WIPs we already had (at least in my case). Then my muse, fickle little tramp that she is, started whispering that maybe I could just do a series of little one-shots featuring the HunterCorp brothers. I started writing a couple days ago, and this is the result! :)
> 
> This was an interesting little exercise, since this was my first time writing for characters other than (regular) Sam and Dean, and particularly characters we've only met in a single episode. I hope that the characterization for the AU!chesters feels right as a result, both to what we saw in the episode and as a mirror/foil to our boys. In a way though, this felt almost like writing for OCs, since there's so much left undefined in canon about this version of the brothers. This is also my first time writing a relatively short one-shot, since my usual work runs to multiple chapters and a much higher word count, so new stuff all around!
> 
> It's a bit amusing to see what my AU!chesters think is "small" or "modest" by their standards, since 300 square meters (~3200 square feet) is a fairly nice-sized house for most of us! Though it certainly helped their reduced budget (by their standards again) that certain high-end materials, like exotic hardwoods and some types of marble, are sourced in Brazil. For anyone interested, this is what I imagined for their bedroom suite furniture (https://www.bocadolobo.com/en/search/index.php?name=lapiaz); it's a happy coincidence that the company is Portuguese, though we'll have to pretend they have a showroom in Rio or Sao Paulo.
> 
> I'm not sure how frequently this series will update, since that will depend on when inspiration strikes (and time allows). I have a few other ideas already, but if you have any suggestions for what the AU!chesters might get into, please let me know! Also, I hope the tagging here doesn't seem confusing or misleading (AO3 doesn't have many tags devoted to the HunterCorp Winchesters), but feel free to let me know if you think something should be changed. As always, constructive criticism is always welcome, and kudos and comments make me a happy writer. :)


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